


Spiralling

by cherishiskisa



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: KIND OF I GUESS, M/M, Platonic Kissing, Sexual Experimentation, i want to say friends with benefits but it isn't really, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 05:05:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherishiskisa/pseuds/cherishiskisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre has never kissed a man before.<br/>This is a tragedy of life that Bahorel wishes to rectify.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spiralling

"Never?"

"Never."

"Your best friend is gay. And you've been best friends with him for your whole life. And you've never kissed a man?"

Combeferre fixes Bahorel with a glare. "You're making it seem as though Enjolras is the type to force physical affection on others. He isn't."

Bahorel rolls his eyes. "Believe me, I know. But he never even wanted to experiment with you?"

"For a gay man, yourself," Combeferre says dryly, "you sure do play into some pretty offensive stereotypes."

"It's all part of my charm," Bahorel drawls, and whereas a remark like that from somebody else would have caused a crease to form between Combeferre's eyebrows-- Enjolras gets the same one-- as he methodically tells them why that's not charming, Bahorel's words get a small quirk of the lips from his friend. Almost a smile, albeit a reluctant one. 

"Anyway, I don't see why it matters. I have no plans to kiss men any time soon."

"It doesn't matter," Bahorel shrugs. "I was just curious."

Combeferre turns his head, looking out the window of the car. "Just go into the parking lot, thanks..."

Bahorel pulls into a parking space a little ways away from the entrance to Combeferre's apartment building. 

"I'm sorry there was nothing to satisfy your curiosity, then," Combeferre adds, and Bahorel has almost forgotten what he'd originally said by then. 

Bahorel shrugs again. "No big deal." For some reason, his eyes dart down to Combeferre's lips. He doesn't know how to phrase the thought that's in his mind, so he stays silent. 

Combeferre unbuckles his seatbelt. "Thanks for the lift." He'd been working late at the college's library, and the bar where Bahorel works is just across the street, so they do this often. 

"Any time."

Combeferre reaches for the door handle. 

"Wait."

Combeferre turns back around, one eyebrow raised ever-so-slightly. On Enjolras, raised eyebrows are mocking. On Combeferre, they're genuinely interested. "Yes?"

Bahorel's tongue runs absently along his lower lip, and he tilts his head to the side. "Ever wanted to try, though?"

Combeferre pauses, thinking about it. "I have," he says eventually. "Just to see what it's like. I'm sure it's different." He sends Bahorel a small smile, and that's invitation enough. 

Bahorel grins easily. "Do you have a minute, then?"

"For what? To talk about our lord and saviour, Jesus Christ?" Combeferre asks with a slight snort, but before Bahorel can appreciate the joke, Combeferre has leaned across the space between them and pressed their lips together. 

Bahorel has never really thought about Combeferre like this. Never as anything more than a friend. He has no feelings for him beyond friendship, veneration, and unconditional trust. Combeferre is brilliant, always knows exactly what to say, and never judges anyone for anything. He isn't exactly _sexy_ , either. 

But Bahorel is always willing to help a friend out, and if the personification of his conscience wants to experiment a little bit, he's glad to assist him on that front. 

Bahorel pulls away after a moment. Combeferre's eyes-- behind his glasses-- are bright with eager interest. "Let's take this to the back seat," he says. 

"Are you propositioning me?" Combeferre asks with a small smile, but he's already getting out of the car and back in again. 

"I would never!" Bahorel says indignantly, and gets in on the other side. 

They sit there for a moment before Combeferre turns to him. "Well, then. I don't have all night. If you're going to tell me about the second coming of the messiah, you should probably get started--"

He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence, because Bahorel's mouth has slanted over his own and cut off his words. 

Somehow, they end up horizontal. Combeferre is smaller than Bahorel is, so he's on top, almost straddling him. An odd, disconnected part of Bahorel's mind wonders why neither of them are hard at this point, but Combeferre's mouth-- usually so consumed by releasing eloquence-- is doing distracting things to Bahorel's jawline, and he doesn't give it too much thought. 

The windows of Bahorel's car steam up, and Combeferre's glasses get pushed off (and carefully set on the armrest of the front seat). Top buttons are loosened, but hands do not wander. Even though Combeferre's mouth is hot and talented on Bahorel's skin, his kisses have a sort of surgical detachment to them, as though Combeferre is running an experiment and is observing from a slight distance. 

Combeferre makes a few very appealing sounds, and heat starts gathering low in both bodies involved in this. They keep their hands mostly chaste, though, because taking any of this to the next level could jeopardise a few things. Bahorel lets himself be bitten and explored and tasted, lets Combeferre try anything he wants. It's the least he can do in return for the steady comfort Combeferre provides him with. 

Finally, Combeferre pulls away, sitting on top of Bahorel. He looks more disheveled than Bahorel has ever seen him-- it's a good look. They're both breathing heavily, but it's less from arousal and more from lack of oxygen. 

Combeferre reaches over and wipes some steam from the window before rolling it down to let some cool night air into the car. Then, he gets his glasses back and carefully dons them again. 

Bahorel just lays there, silent and waiting for a review of sorts. 

"Well," Combeferre says gravely at length, "I'm definitely still straight."

There is another silence, in which Bahorel tries to determine whether he should feel insulted or not. 

"But I did like that thing you did with your tongue," Combeferre admits, and Bahorel grins. There we go. 

"Which one?" he asks with an easy smile, propping himself up on his elbows. 

Combeferre makes a small sound in frustration. "I don't know how to explain it. The one which is like--" He leans down into another kiss, open-mouthed, and lets his tongue slide first along Bahorel's lower lip, then into his mouth, with a definite pressure. Combeferre has always been such a fast learner. 

"You're doing it wrong!" Bahorel laughs between kisses, and he can taste Combeferre's frown. "See, it's actually like _this_..." He demonstrates, and the window Combeferre had wiped off steams up again. 

After a while, they need to breathe again. Combeferre rests on Bahorel's shoulder, panting softly, and Bahorel absently strokes his back.

On a whim, Bahorel says, "Let's have sex."

Combeferre snorts out a laugh, pushing himself up to stare at him. "Thank you for the offer, but no." He leans down to briefly kiss Bahorel one last time. "I'm not quite that curious."

Bahorel shrugs, crossing his arms behind his head as he looks up at his friend. "Just throwin' it out there, if you ever do get that curious."

"Thank you." Combeferre sighs and stretches. This stretch brings his right arm in front of his face, and his eyes go wide as he checks his watch. "Would you just look at the time. I have a lecture early tomorrow morning, you know." His tone is accusatory, but there's no bite in it. 

Bahorel rolls his eyes. "You and your priorities. Fine, get out of the car." 

Combeferre sends him a slightly mocking smile and gets off of him, opening the car door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye," Bahorel nods. "Have a good night."

"Thanks, you, too." Combeferre pauses in the door. "And thank you for... you know."

Bahorel grins. "Any time, _mon ami_. Seriously, the offer is still out there for--"

"You're ridiculous," Combeferre huffs, but he's smiling as he closes the door and walks away. 

Bahorel gets out of the back seat, but before he can get back into the front, he calls after Combeferre's retreating form, "I like that thing you do with your tongue, too!"

He can practically see the blush rising up to Combeferre's ears from there. When Combeferre turns around, he's expecting a beautifully worded reprimand, but what he gets is an arched eyebrow. A challenge. "Which one?"

**Author's Note:**

> yes the implication is that they then make out some more  
> sigh bahorel and combeferre are my favourite brotp because just imagine them getting into arguments with other people! imagine it! combeferre making brilliant, well-thought-out points, and bahorel just brandishing his muscles!!  
> so yeah.  
> come talk to me, i'm on tumblr at grabtaire.tumblr.com!!


End file.
